


gravemakers and gunslingers

by hellevator



Series: all the ways i numb you out [1]
Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellevator/pseuds/hellevator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you're the sin of this city, now repent for all the wrong you've done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gravemakers and gunslingers

**Author's Note:**

> this is set somewhere between 3x03 and 3x05. i needed a dose of happy. (title and summary from a coheed and cambria song.)

              Sounds of laughter were bouncing across the buildings surrounding the rooftop. _Their_ rooftop. It was a hot night and the full moon soaking them in light looked so big you could almost reach out and touch it. Ian's entire mouth and throat were numb, apparent by the way he kept swallowing loudly and making the strangest face. The city must have been coated in Mickey Milkovich's amusement, the way he kept looking over at him and then turning his head quickly to howl out again. It was probably the best noise the redhead had ever heard. Even if it wasn't in his interest.

 

"The _fuck_ you doing, Gallagher?" Mickey finally snorted out, handing over a piece of foil with a fresh line of cocaine down the center of it. Ian was surprised he hadn't spilled it, between all the making fun of him and making him feel like an idiot. They were sitting on the cement that was still warm from the sun that had gone down less than an hour ago - a light sheen of sweat against their skin.

 

"My throat," he started, taking the foil scrap and a straw before sticking the straw between his lips. Mickey lit a lighter beneath the foil, causing the coke to bubble a bit as Ian inhaled the thick white fumes that rose up. The smoke was forced back out of his lungs with a deep cough and he shook his head, trying to catch his breath.  "I can't feel anything."

 

"That'll come in handy later," Milkovich suggestively cocked his brow. His hand gripped at the back of Ian's head, pushing it firmly down towards his crotch. Ian tried swatting him away - a quick jab to the ribs with his elbow doing the trick. There was a smile firmly stuck on his lips, one that the other boy would describe as stupid but in this moment he honestly didn't care. He would be stupid for Mickey any day of the week. Besides, the other boy hadn't seemed to mind as much lately. At least when it was just the two of them. Sure, there were still the insults, but something just a little bit softer had grown beneath the mocking and Mickey couldn't hide it from enveloping his face. He didn't even seem to keep the same safe space between their bodies anymore.

 

Most of the time Ian didn't have much of a taste for anything other than weed and booze. It was the dark haired boy next to him that always seemed to be the instigator. Secretly, Ian knew it was because it was the only time Mickey felt like he could really relax. It was a sad thought that he needed an excuse just to be himself, but that conversation was never likely going to happen. Besides, they were barely on the same wavelength sober. Add one of them being high into the mix and it was sure not to end well. So instead of declining, Ian grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was handed to him, his hand lingering on top of the others longer than was necessary. Even looked him directly in the eye as he did it. The best part? Mickey didn't look away. Ian could still feel his eyes on him even as he took a swig out of the bottle. He wasn't sure if it was the liquor or the unfiltered stare he was receiving but his entire body flushed with warmth.

 

"You're looking at me like you want to kill me and stuff me in your freezer," the redhead chuckled, stretching his legs out in front of him and laying back, his hands cupping the back of his head against the hard ground.

 

"You wouldn't fit in our freezer. You're too fuckin' lanky," Mickey mused, crawling over the redhead's hips until he was seated on top of him, legs straddling his waist. He liked the feeling of being in control.  "I could kill you, though." He lifted the bottom of his shirt up and Ian would swear his heart skipped a beat at the glimpse of the boy's abdomen while he reached into his waistband and pulled out the .22 he felt the need to carry on him at all times. Although maybe, with the people in his family, it _was_ necessary. This time, Ian's heart literally skipped a beat (but that could be chalked up to the drugs, at this point in their relationship he was in no more fear for his life seeing Mickey with a gun as he was seeing a baby with a lollipop). His cheeks hurt, widening the seemingly permanent smile. "Well, do it then," his head tilted to the side. He reached for Mickey's free wrist but it was pushed away, the other boy clearly going for the full on intimidation look.

 

Mickey peered down at him menacingly and even went as far as to cock the gun back before he grinned and shook his head. "Nah, man," the missing weight of his body made Ian want to complain as Mickey rolled onto his back next to him, tucking the gun back into his jeans. "I'd kill for you, though," he said thoughtfully after a second, nodding his head slightly in agreement with himself. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard the other boy say. It made his heart swell. That probably should have made him more concerned about his own mental health than anything.

 

It was bizarre, the way he could hear his blood pumping through his ears. A feeling that was uncomfortable and satisfying at the same time. Not that he could focus on it for too long. For the first time in his life, Mickey Milkovich could not _shut the fuck up_. It was endearing. Although, when Ian let himself think to the future, their future together, he could see how it could get annoying after a while. It was a nice thought, allowing himself to think they would work this out eventually. Luckily for him, it'd never seemed more at reach than ever. Kind of like the moon tonight.

 

Right then, he had decided he liked the mixture of coke and alcohol together. The up countered the down until it mixed into this murky substance where you felt everything and yet felt nothing at the same time. Felt super motivated to lay there and doing nothing at all. Mickey said that was what a speedball felt like, heroin and coke together. He got upset when Ian inquired further but after some coaxing it was revealed how that was what his mother had overdosed and died from. Ian nodded grimly and looked away, sorting out the thoughts in his head that seemed to be firing off too many times a second.

 

He had learned more about Mickey in one night than he had in two years. It was fascinating. But he couldn't help but have to swallow down a little bit of sadness. He wanted him to feel safe doing this without the veil of drugs. He wanted to know _everything_ about him. But he was resigned to the fact that he never would. It only kept him more interested.

 

"Tell me a secret," he interrupted Milkovich as he went on about how hot it was up there. "I mean, something nobody else knows about you," he added as he rolled onto his side, elbow propped up to support his head.

 

"You serious?" Mickey questioned like it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, a thick puff of smoke from his cigarette flowing up into the air above their heads. He mimicked Ian's position, facing him.

 

"What, are you afraid?" Ian dared, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. Maybe he needed a new approach to talking Mickey into doing something he clearly felt no need to. What better way than to make him feel like a pussy if he didn't do it rather than bitch about it? From the way the boy's eyebrows relaxed, he thought possibly it had worked. "I'll tell you something first," he assured, fingers reaching out for Mickey's waist. He still couldn't stop himself from being surprised when Mickey didn't pull away, just gave his hand an odd glance and then turned his eyes back up to Ian.

 

"We gonna do show and tell next too?" He scoffed, a little of the whiskey from the almost empty bottle trickling down his cheek as he took another drink. Ian's fingers were tapping against the side of his waist from the rush of energy he had that was only somehow reduced to his fingers from the alcohol. He didn't even know he was doing it until he felt Mickey's hand cover his own, trying to get it to sit still.

 

"Maybe," Ian shrugged his shoulders, at least as best he could in this position. He wasn't going to back down from the question and he could see the look of relenting disappointment on Mickey's face. It was too bad for him that he loved that look or else maybe he would feel a little bad. Doubtful.

 

"Fine," he sighed out heavily, turning his head back to look at the redhead. "Go."

 

Gallagher was regretting saying he'd go first without preparing an answer. A million things ran through his head, a million manly, awesome things. What came out was something so embarrassing to him, he had to actually look away after he'd realized he had actually admitted to it. "I sucked my thumb until I was thirteen." The laughter began echoing off the walls again, much to his annoyance.

 

"I need to get you a fuckin' sign, Gallagher. Biggest queer to walk the earth," he quipped, raising his hands up in the sky as if he were picturing the plaque. It was met with a solid punch to the shoulder, making Mickey grunt. When he looked over, he knew Mickey could tell he had hurt his feelings with his mocking. Ian also knew he didn't care too much. "Don't be such a pussy. You probly did it as a comfort thing or some shit, from your fucked up family. My cousin used to do the same thing." That was as good as an apology as any, really. 

 

The older boy laid back again but Ian's hand stayed firm in place, now clutched across his torso at the movement. Mickey was hard in thought with a blank face. The only thing moving on him was the corner of his mouth, twitching upwards slightly every time he opened his mouth to speak. Still, nothing came out. Gratefully, Ian felt nothing but patience.

 

"Sometimes.." Mickey was staring up at the clouds passing over them. "I think about gettin' the hell outta Chicago. Just gettin' away from all of this bullshit and starting over. That's stupid, though, right? I mean, I'd still be me. I'd still be fucked. Just in a new place." 

 

"I like that you're you." There was no deception in Ian's voice, it was honest and crystal clear. He'd always prided himself on his honesty. "No matter how fucked you think you are." He nodded reassuringly, free hand moving away from his head to reach out for the boy's hair. It was a bold move, he knew that. Mickey had twitched away from his touch, giving him a look that said he was pushing it a little too far. Fair enough. He wanted to ask if the boy's daydreams including him as well. But he wasn't that stupid. He also wasn't sure if he really wanted the answer.

 

"Yanno, once in a great fuckin' while.." Mickey sighed again, palms moving to rub over his face.  It left black marks on his nose, the soot from the bottom of the foil still present. "I don't hate you," he mumbled, barely audible through his hands until he moved them back down, fingertips gripping tightly at the skin of the redheads arm.

 

"That's not a secret, Mick," Ian shook his head in protest, that dumb grin shining once again. 

 

 

"Yeah.. Doesn't make it fuckin' suck any less, does it."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) feedback always appreciated, i'm thinking of doing more of these two experimenting with different things throughout their relationship. none of it will be linear but it should all be as canon as possible.


End file.
